Fashion Week
by Adrienne LaVerne
Summary: Heero Yuy is a journalist sent to cover Paris Fashion Week, where he meets many models including his high school obsession, Duo Maxwell. 1x2x1 Yaoi in later chapters ! !AU! !
1. Chapter 1

GW 2x1 Yaoi fic, PG, higher in later chapters.

You know the drill; Someone else owns them, I stole them, yadda yadda yadda. Any damages will be replaced, fear not

This is here because yesterday I was looking at some pictures of the Dior Homme models a few seasons ago, whilst thinking of an article I read in a magazine, ages ago, written by Ian Winwood. I love the stuff he writes. I stole several of his metaphors I think blush no, borrowed with intent to plagiarise is closer.

--ooOoo--

'Duo Maxwell is known. He knows this. Even if you saw him walking down the street, you could tell that this man is one who knows where he's headed. It's in the way he walks, the way he talks, the way he holds his head high when he speaks to you. But you can't dislike him for this. His engaging manner, the smile that constantly lights his face, and the grin when something strikes him as funny, all come together to make a figure that you can't help but like. He sits opposite me, cheekbones angled like pinball flippers in a face that seems angelic and oh so devilish all at once, and it is easy to see why so many ladies have fallen for him. But it's no use trying; when I mention this to him, his face lights up in that grin and he pulls on what is quite possibly the twentieth cigarette of the hundred he will smoke in any given day, it being 10am. He seems contemplative. 'Sure, the girls have tried, but I'm afraid I'm just not into that. Never have been, and I can't see that I ever will be. So sorry girls, but just keep your guys on a leash around me.' He winks and grins again; this complete honesty comes totally natural for him.

Finishing his cigarette, he turns his attention to the large ice cream sundae in front of him. Heaped up is the oddest combination of ice creams, sauces and toppings one could imagine. When asked if it's so no one wants a taste, he simply says he likes the intricacy of the flavours. Waxing lyrical, he states 'It reminds me of my life. Some things mix well and some don't. It's always different. But it's sure fun finding out.' So how on earth do you keep the shape needed to be a top end fashion model? 'It's sport. I love it. I never used to, but at high school I joined the basketball team, and fell in love with it.' a pause, 'It was about a guy at first, of course.' At this he smiles apologetically. 'It's always about a guy.'

Walking through Camden town, passing people on the street; people who recognise Duo straight away, fans who want a chat and a photo, and others who don't yet recognise him but turn all the same to see this handsome 24 year old, with chestnut hair down to his waist and a crowd of people surrounding him. We head into a shop to pick up an order he placed; a pair of fitted leather trousers, soft and luxurious, and he smiles at me, showing me several photos, male and female, with phone numbers or email addresses scrawled on the back. He points to one, a young Asian boy, perhaps 16 years old. With a serious expression, he says 'that kid reminded me of someone. I like him.' For a second he looks wistful, before the grin is back and no amount of probing will make him reveal more. Clutching his bag, he bounds across the road to look in another shop window. Like a child in a candy store, for the rest of the afternoon he bounces back and forth, making purchases for his new flat (several large panoramic views of London) because he needs them (black eyeliner and something silver and sparkly) or simply on a whim (a bright coloured bag, covered in sequins).

And yet I still can't help but admire him. For someone so well known and admired on the international fashion scene, one known to be bitchy and hierarchal, he is surprisingly down to earth. Originally only in London for several shoots and fashion week (next week he's in Paris), he has bought his riverside apartment and plans to make a life in this city. And I for one wish him well. Unlike so many stars interviewed on these pages, with Duo one senses an almost childlike honesty, a wish to be accepted simply for what he is. And at the moment that is a refreshing change. ●'

Heero Yuy finished reading the article, torn from Cosmo magazine, a faint smile playing at his lips. He hadn't seen Duo in years, and now he would be in the same place for a week. It was almost impossible to think that they wouldn't meet, especially with Heero's resourcefulness. Reading the article again, he remembered those high school days.

He had hated it at the time of course. He'd been the quiet Japanese boy in the corner, always studying, or watching everyone else from afar. Duo had been popular, how could he not have been? He had the looks and personality that drew people to him. When you were near Duo you felt special, blessed almost to be in such company. Heero felt so anyway. He had adored Duo, envied him almost, but like the article said, you couldn't dislike him for this. Heero spent his time casting furtive looks across the room when no one was looking. Not that they ever were looking at him, if Duo was in the room.

Duo was so loudly gay, even way back then, flirting with everyone and pouncing on the guys when they least expected it, making the kinds of comments that coming from anyone else would seem crude. No one had suspected Heero.

There was only one time when the two were equal. On court, Heero was the star even if he didn't act like that the rest of the time. Duo was good, sure; you had to be to make the team. But with his limber muscles and hidden strengths, this was where Heero shone. It was where he was most natural. He had been surprised when Duo joined the team. Even more so when he knew Heero's name, would strike up conversation. It didn't make sense; people like Heero and people like Duo were like water and oil. And yet he did. In the changing rooms, during practice, even if they bumped into each other on campus.

But the small pleasure this offered faded instantly when Heero realised he offered the same to all the team members, to anyone in fact. He had grown jealous, bitter almost as it continued; he hated the fact that Duo had time for everyone and the fact that he wanted him for himself. Eventually he dropped out of the team, spending all his time studying. That was when he decided to forget him, just put him out of his mind completely. Duo still smiled at him occasionally, but this no longer meant anything. It was then that the feeling had faded from his face. He was very near to uncaring when the news came that Duo had been signed to a modelling agency and was moving to New York. He hadn't even thought of Duo in years.

And now reverting his attention to the first sheet of the fax; the newspaper Heero worked for had decided to send him to cover Paris fashion week. He was one of the few who could go and know what they were talking about, and the editor 'liked his writing charm' apparently. He frowned, hoping it had nothing to do with the editor being Quatre Winner, the person who had sent him the article, another old school friend, confidant and hopeless romantic.

And yet, what if…? Even to Heero with his low self-esteem it seemed like Duo was talking about him. An average school in London's suburbs in the eighties, there weren't that many Asian people at the school, and nearly none on the sports teams. It couldn't hurt of course. If he were wrong then Duo probably wouldn't even recognise him.

He wandered around his kitchen, all steel and black tiles, on a busy street in the centre of London. He liked his flat; it was small enough to not cost the earth and yet big enough to give him some space. A short bike ride from his office and right near a main bus route. All the practicalities necessary for life in the city.

The email icon on his laptop flashed. It was the details for the trip. He would fly out that night, to catch the 'early buzz' as Quatre put it, and spend the next week touring the shows and parties looking for potential stories and interviewees.

As he packed his things into the dark navy holdall, he could feel two dangerous emotions, hope and excitement, building inside him, although his flawless face revealed very little. By the time he had reached the door, unassuming luggage in one hand, black coffee in the other, the face had regained its usual blank expression. After all, this was just another business trip.

--ooOoo--

Hola, I'm back! Sorry. I just go through phases where I have a seemingly wonderful idea and just have to write, and others where I'd rather dive head first into hydrochloric acid. Y'no how it goes. If this phase goes on long enough, I may even neaten up (otherwise known as rewriting) the Elephant piece too. Fingers crossed.


	2. Chapter 2

Still only U rated, I'm afraid, but I'm working on it

**--ooOoo--**

Heero cast his eyes about, a little bit apprehensive, a little bit awestruck. He was surrounded by some of the richest and most beautiful people in Europe. He recognised many from articles, written and read, in financial magazines and broadsheet newspapers. There were broad shouldered men in silk ties and understated Armani suits, arm in arm with petite tanned ladies wearing tailored skirts or Chanel dresses, exuding elegance and glamour. Above the crowd bobbed hats by Boyd and Treacy, and many more. The cream of the world's couture houses were very well represented.

He smiled to himself. The day had gone very well. Sitting in the hotel bar with the photographers and the other journalist from his paper, they went over the day's events. He had spent the afternoon talking to and interviewing the designers and models as they began preparing for the evening's shows. He had left as things got hectic, but not before he got the numbers of several of Calvin Klein's models, and the promise of a champagne dinner from an angelic looking young man dressed in nothing but a jersey shirt and a pair of sky blue footless tights.

A text from Quatre: 'Have you found him yet? Q.' reminded him that no, he hadn't had sight nor sound of Duo yet. Maybe he wouldn't be here. Maybe he had changed so much he was unrecognisable; Quatre hadn't sent a photo with the article and a person can change a lot in eight years.

Did he WANT Duo to not be there? He didn't care either way. This answer came to him too quickly, and he was forced to think about it, to truly consider the question. To hell with it! Of course he wanted to see Duo, if Duo wanted to see him. And since he couldn't answer that from here, he would just have to risk it. What if Duo DID want to see him? The implications of this made him squirm in his seat, suddenly aware of how uncomfortably tight his jeans were.

Forcing his attention back to the here and now, he was just in time to wave off two photographers and the other journalist as they left for the shows. Tonight, as well as the Calvin Klein show, were the Westwood and Miu Miu shows, which he was not particularly interested in. Looking at a programme the woman to his left, a photographer and forceful woman called Sally, who really did have the power to make her subjects 'growl like a tiger', or whatever else she wanted them to do, started reading off the shows tomorrow night.

'Right… there's the Gucci and Burberry shows, 'Fei said they were excellent last year, and Gucci at least is an important one…' she trailed off for a moment. 'Fei' was her fiancé, an ex-model who had reinvented his career on the other side of the camera. Also there's the Valentino show which Trowa wanted to cover so you don't have to, Heero, and then the Dior Homme and Emporio Armani, which we'll do. OK, Heero?'

He nodded noncommittally, but was pleased with the way things had turned out. He wasn't a particular Valentino fan, but the Dior show was the one he was looking forward to this week. Over the years Hedi Slimane's designs had been getting tighter and tighter, and Heero thought that the 16 year old waifs that were the only ones able to fit into his clothes now were the prettiest creatures. He enjoyed the clothes, watching the way the fashions changed from one season to the next, but with models like that, he didn't give a damn if they were wearing floral print tents.

--ooOoo--

The crowd was buzzing. Heero and Trowa sat together, with Sally behind, each lost in their own thoughts. The Dior show had just finished, and the Heero was truly mesmerized. The outfits had been amazing, simple and yet radiating quality and wealth. He looked around again at the crowd. There were several women still wearing the expression he was sure he'd been wearing for most of the show, the gaping one of someone who is in the presence of something close to genius. The men of the crowd ranged from the hip youngsters who could well have modelled the collection to Mediterranean men in dark glasses, sitting with wives, obviously waiting for the Armani show.

Sally and Trowa were now talking together, discussing favourite outfits and the trends. Trowa's mother had been a designer and Sally's photography education had been heavily involved with fashion, and Heero felt way out of his depth listening to them.

Suddenly the room went dark and the crowd was immediately silenced. Spotlights lit up the stage and catwalk, clean white lights on the black screens. Already Heero could tell that this show would be something else entirely. The music started and the models began their display. The suits were gorgeous, another level up from the shows before. Even the models seemed a cut above the rest.

Looking to the next three, Heero saw a suit that instantly caught his attention. Comparatively baggy trousers, and a very low fronted waistcoat between a longish jacket and silk shirt, open at the neck; it stood out from the rest. And the model walked like he owned the show. The most attractive one so far too, Heero thought with a small grin. A slightly pointed chin and well defined cheekbones, visible beneath long bangs, reddish brown hair. Heero blinked. It was Duo.

He was there. Less than ten metres away, and coming ever closer. Heero blinked again, Duo appeared to be staring right at him, a glint of recognition in his eyes. He had barely changed at all, Heero noted. There was an air of maturity about him, but otherwise it was still Duo. In that moment, everything Heero had ever felt for him came rushing back, he was a lonely schoolboy again, all eyes were on Duo again. A wave of dizziness came over him, and he shut his eyes, willing it to all go away, fighting it, refusing to give in to such weakness. For the rest of the show he sat there, rocking backwards and forwards slightly, unable to focus on the show, the lights suddenly too bright, the flashing of cameras making his head spin.

There had only ever been one person Heero couldn't win an argument against. Himself. All through the show there was a constant row in his head, the side that said he was imagining, projecting things that weren't real, versus the side that said Duo had seen him and recognised him, and he should go find him. When the house lights went up, the war was still raging and he was only brought back to reality by Trowa's suggestion that they hit the bar. Instantly Heero agreed, since it saved him making the decision of what to do.

He didn't often drink, but when he did it was with a vengeance. The first round, he took a double Jack Daniels over ice, which he drained in one, before settling for large glasses of red wine.

When his next round came, he was standing at the bar and heard a sudden increase in the noise or the bar. Turning to look at the source, he saw Duo walk through the bar with several other models Heero recognised. Turning back quickly, he willed the queue for the bar to go down so he could run back to the corner where Trowa, Sally and the others were waiting.

He felt a jab in his back. 'Bloody handbags' he thought. Already today he had been hit, poked, and otherwise assaulted by various accessories. Ready to give the woman behind an earful about controlling her possessions, he spun around to find himself face to face with a grin he hadn't seen in nearly a decade.

**--ooOoo--**

So there we have it. does that count as a cliffhanger ending?

Thankyou to my reviewers, I love you guys SO SO much. Big hugs and sloppy kisses all round xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	3. Chapter 3

'Come sit with me.' The statement was so short, so direct, that it caught Heero off balance. 'I can't. I'm with them; getting drinks.' He indicated to the corner where sally and Trowa were watching him, mixed expressions on their faces. Duo smiled. 'Don't worry about them. Jean!' The barman looked around. 'Could you send a bottle of Moet & Chandon over to the corner, s'il vous plait?' Heero glared at him, daring him to shatter his one escape route. Duo caught the glare and grinned sheepishly. 'Ok, maybe that is a little harsh. Make it two bottles. And another at my table please.'

Watching the scene, thoughts whizzing through his mind ten to the dozen, Heero felt he had no control over the situation. He had even less control when he felt the firm hand at the small of his back, guiding him to where a table was set out with two tall champagne flutes and a bottle on ice. Maybe it was the wine, maybe he really didn't want to resist, but somehow he found himself sat at the table, glass in hand, watching Duo suspiciously.

'So. How have you been?' Duo's tone was light but his gaze was much deeper.

'Alright, I suppose.'

'Good. Quatre seems to think you'll go very far as a journalist. Wouldn't be surprised if you're working for The Times or something in the not too distant future.'

'Yeah well. Hang on… Quatre? You've spoken to him?'

Of course! He told me you'd be here. I'm a very good correspondent. Unless people don't seem to WANT me to contact them of course.' With this he looked pointedly into Heero's eyes.

Heero dropped the gaze. 'Things… happened. Don't talk about it. I don't even know why I'm talking to you now. I should go.' One side of Heero's mind cheered, while the other side berated him of his stubborn will.

'You're talking to me because I gave you no choice in the matter, Heero.' Duo's use of his name made him look up, and he found the model's eyes fixed on him again. His enchanting, almost violet eyes. Funny, Heero thought, I never noticed what a sparkling colour they are before. 'Ok, go. But come out with me one night, while you're in town. Just once. Tomorrow!' Looking him in the eye, Heero felt his stubbornness dissipating. Even before he opened his mouth, Duo grinned. 'Awesome then. I'll pick you up at about eight, and you can come to my hotel to get ready. Don't worry about what to wear.'

'…ok then. I'm staying at the-'

Don't worry, everything's already sorted. I talked to Quatre, remember? Very organised guy…'

Slightly confused and very annoyed, Heero left, before Duo could rope him into anything else.

The next evening, Heero laid on the bed in his hotel room, when the phone rang.

'Mr Yuy? There's someone in reception to see you.'

He grabbed a jacket and went downstairs. Duo was waiting in the lobby. To his relief, Heero saw that he was also wearing just jeans and a tee-shirt. Grinning, Duo grabbed his arm and led him out of the hotel, towards a small black convertible car waiting outside.

Heero was unaccustomed to travelling in this way. Duo drove with the top down and the music loud, music that Heero didn't know, the intoxicating beat melding into him, as the engine purred through the streets of Paris. He relaxed into his seat, telling himself it would be a good night, as he watched Duo, shades on, his hair whipping in the wind.

When he stopped outside the Ritz, Heero gasped. He had once been in the London Ritz for a conference, but the idea of staying in such a place… he was amazed. Tossing the keys to a valet, Duo steered Heero inside and into his suite.

'Right, what am I going to put you in…?' he muttered, to himself more than anything, as Heero stood awkwardly in the centre of the room. 'Got it.' He wandered to the wardrobe, and began pulling things out. Seeing an abundance of fishnet, Heero began to fear the worst. 'Uh, where are we actually going?' he asked uncertainly.

'If I told you that, my friend, I would be spoiling the surprise. But I hope you've got your dancing feet on.' The reply from the closet did little to reassure him.

'Got it!' Emerging triumphant, Duo clutched an armful of black clothes. 'Go try!' He seemed excited as he thrust the things at Heero and sent him into the bathroom.

Several minutes later, Heero emerged looking extremely dubious. He was dressed in a pair of pinstriped trousers hanging from his hips and a high necked, ruffled shirt that stopped two inches above his navel. 'no.' he said bluntly.

'Yeah, you're right. You'll boil in that shirt all night. My bad.' And he was off again.

Several costume changes later, Heero emerged in the simplest outfit yet. It was a pair of black drainpipe jeans and a long sleeved top made from semi-sheer gauze. Duo burst out laughing. 'What!' Heero said defensive. 'I didn't think this was THAT bad?'

'Heero, turn around. What underwear are you wearing?' When he heard, he laughed again. 'Lose it. Now.'

'What? I can't go out like that.'

It's better than the view at the moment. Believe me.' Knowing he couldn't win, Heero went and removed his boxers.

'Now THAT is hot.' Duo said, once again grinning. 'Right, let me get changed.' Moments later, he emerged. Heero caught his breath. Dressed in a pair of soft leather pants and a loose black shirt with ruffled sleeves, the top four buttons undone, Duo looked gorgeous. Smiling at the stunned expression, Duo pounced on him, eyeliner in hand. Less than half an hour later, they were done. As well as eyeliner, Duo had bullied him into wearing a black leather collar and pair of cuffs, with heavy silver rings on them. Heero recognised the style, but was unsure where he had seen them, and decided not to mention it. Duo was wearing a silver and black rosary with an intricate crucifix on the end that spun and caught the light when he leaned forward.

Driving through the dark city, Heero decided to ask where they were going. 'A little club I know, I always visit when I'm in the area. They parked and walked down a small alley. 'I give you… La Bal des Vampires!'

--ooOoo--

I'm not sure about this chapter, but the next will make up for it. Heero, Duo and a bunch of other hot Goths melts Must crack on. It took forever too.

Oasis; you didn't leave an address sweetie; I'd have messaged you straight away… right, my excuses for my holes…

Who said it was in the eighties? Correct me if I'm wrong but I don't think I put in any dates

Silly I know, but Grease is set in the fifties and they were at High School… although that was in America…

This is not the original Gundam Wing. I have written a fic that uses the characters and puts them in a totally different setting; there are only so many fics where they all end up at the same safe house or school (in the series they never did) that I can take

this is an AU fic, I forgot to put that in the disclaimer, my bad, which accounts for the fact that the fashions are hot off next spring's catwalks and Gundams don't exist

if they weren't in the same industry, then they'd never meet up, or even think of each other, and IMO that would make for a very boring Yaoi story

You'd be surprised how people can meet up in funny places. Off topic I know, but my parents own a pub, and the other day some guy comes in, he lives about 400 miles away, but came down here on holiday. He and my dad (behind the bar) are talking, and it turns out this guy worked with my dad in the seventies. So yeah, it's funny how you can bump into people you know, even without Quatre's meddling.

Hope this filled in your holes! any more then message me, trying to come up with on the spot answers is fun.


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